


Morning Care

by FFlove190



Series: Rare Pair Week 2019 [4]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sick Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 04:05:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17859953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FFlove190/pseuds/FFlove190
Summary: Tseng has a bit of a cold, Sephiroth wants to take care of him.





	Morning Care

**Author's Note:**

> Rare Pair Week Day 4: Events / Sickness
> 
> Unbeta;d

Tseng cleared his throat. It didn’t help so he cleared it again. 

 

“You don’t look well.” Sephiroth said from his station at the tea pot. Sephiroth, ever doting, had already poured Tseng two cups of herbal tea. Most days that was enough to stave off any infection.

 

“Is it that obvious?” Tseng rubbed at his forehead. The headache behind his eyes was only getting worse. 

 

“Perhaps you should stay home.” Sephiroth suggested it hesitantly. Tseng knew that Sephiroth was never clear on the protocol for what happened when you fell ill. Sephiroth was never ‘sick’, his only statuses during sick leave were either ‘under lab observation’ or ‘wounded’. 

Tseng sighed and took another sip of tea. 

 

“Depends on how infectious I am.” Tseng lifted his cup. It was heavier than it should have been. “If I go in, it’ll only be desk work.” 

 

Veld would take one look at Tseng and give him all the busy work that just happened to pile up while managing the secrets of Shinra.

 

Sephiroth opened his mouth, tried to say something, closed it, and sighed himself. 

 

It was endearing in a painful way to watch Sephiroth understand how to interact with the mundane. From learning how to cook, to how to leave his weapons at the door, and now to figuring out what to say when someone had fallen ill. 

 

“You’re flushed.” Sephiroth finally said. “Doesn’t that mean you’re feverish?” 

 

Tseng frowned at that. He hadn’t  _ looked _ flush when he washed his face just twenty minutes ago. But the fabric of his suit did feel thinner than it should have. It wasn’t as if he was wearing an extra layer of body armor but he shouldn’t be that cold.

 

Sephiroth stepped away from the counter, one of his hands on Tseng’s arm. By all aspects it wasn’t an intimate gesture. But any gentle touch from Sephiroth was intimate.

 

“Stay home,” Sephiroth said it softly. “I’ll look after you.”

 

Tseng tried to say something, and promptly turned away to cough into his hand. Sephiroth didn’t pull away. Tseng finally managed a rasp, “You have your own duties. No need to tend to an ailing Turk.” Another cough. “I’ll stay home regardless.”

 

The longer Tseng stood, the worse he felt. He could handle some busy work from his mobile: there was no need to go in and take down the entire Turk department.

 

“You’re staying?” Sephiroth asked it like a child looking for a rainbow. Tseng closed his eyes to savor the sound of it. 

 

“Yes.” Tseng cradled his mug and tried to leech more warmth from it. “I need to call in before I do anything else.” Among another litany of tasks that would involve handing off his work without hassling Beld. 

 

“I’m glad you’re staying home.” Sephiroth’s smile was warm: the kind of smile that put Tseng at ease. Then, without another breath, Sephiroth swept an arm under Tseng’s legs. Tseng reacted before he could stop himself: the cup towards Sephiroth’s head. Sephiroth caught it, of course, but not before luke warm tea splashed on the both of them. 

 

“Sephiroth.” 

 

“... I should have asked first.” It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Tseng knew it wouldn’t be the last. So far there had been only once that Sephiroth incurred bodily injury from acting before thinking: Tseng hoped that would be the last.

 

“Yes.” Tseng sighed. Tseng still relaxed against Sephiroth despite his frustration. The rush of adrenaline had tired him more than he wanted and Sephiroth was warm. 

 

“I apologize.” Sephiroth moved to place the cup on the counter. It was a smooth motion. Tseng didn’t make a habit of being carried, but Sephiroth always did it wonderfully. “I thought the sick were supposed to be invalids.” 

 

“I can walk to my own bed.” It was all Tseng could manage in response. He didn’t need to get up and walk, he had no point to prove. Sephiroth just held him a closer to his chest. Tseng didn’t mind. 

 

Tseng pulled his phone from a pocket and send a mail to Veld. It was less personal than Veld liked, but it would serve.

 

“Noted.” Sephiroth noted. “But you do not need to walk. I want to carry you.”

 

“Hmm.” Tseng tried, and failed to suppress a yawn. “You might strain yourself.”

 

Sephiroth chuckled. The sound echoed in Tseng’s ribs. It was pleasant as always, but made him cough. 

 

Sephiroth lowered Tseng onto the bed. It was neatly made: Sephiroth military trained and Tseng liked things in their proper place. Tseng’s apartment was orderly and had plenty of room for Sephiroth to settle, too. 

 

“Do you need anything?” 

 

Tseng stripped his jacket, holsters, vest, and unfortunately lost energy at the button up. 

 

“To get out of this suit.” Tseng lowered himself back on the comforter. Tseng pushed at Sephiroth’s hands when they went to his buttons. “Stop. You should be at work.”

 

Sephiroth huffed. “Fine.” Sephiroth pulled up a blanket over him regardless. There was a kiss on Tseng’s forehead. It was cool, warm, wet, and perfect. “Be sure to rest.”

 

Tseng was going to say something witty in response, something that Sephiroth could mull over at work. But his eyelids were heavy. All he got out was a “Mm.” 

 

[...]

 

Tseng woke up a few hours later, warm and sweating. But he was comfortable under the covers. Gone was the remains of his suit and in it’s place were the silk pajamas Sephiroth had gotten him a few months ago. 

 

There was Sephiroth, sitting on one edge of the bed with a book in hand. Bits of Sephiroth’s hair were tickling Tseng’s forehead.

 

“You’re awake.” Sephiroth sounded relieved. Sephiroth’s hands were cool against Tseng’s cheek. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Terrible.” Tseng snaked a hand out of the covers and reached for Sephiroth’s. Sephiroth’s hands were calloused, long and powerful - they were soothing to hold. “But thankful you’re here.”

 

Sephiroth laughed softly before he reached down and kissed Tseng’s lips. 

 

“You’ll get sick.” Tseng laughed through the coughs. 

 

“It doesn’t matter.” Sephiroth said. Tseng wondered, in the haze before he fell back asleep, if Sephiroth was looking forward to it. In a way, he was right: Tseng would look after him just like Sephiroth was looking after him.

 

Tseng pulled Sephiroth down into the bed. Sephiroth was a wall of heat and always willing to cuddle. Tseng drifted off to sleep with hair in his mouth and someone to care for him. That was all he needed. 


End file.
